


Of Arguments and Resurrections

by kitkatkaylie



Series: The Winter’s Queen Shorts [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Arguing, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, but he doesnt stay dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23191093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kitkatkaylie/pseuds/kitkatkaylie
Summary: Jon and Tormund argued, of course they did, for why would they not when Jon was flirting with another man in front of him?Only this was an argument with dire consequences.
Relationships: Tormund Giantsbane/Jon Snow
Series: The Winter’s Queen Shorts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587118
Comments: 1
Kudos: 109





	Of Arguments and Resurrections

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so this one takes place during chapters 11 and 12 of A Circlet of Weirwood.

“What are you sulking about?” One of the crows bullied his way next to Tormund.

Tormund grunted at him and took another swig of the horse piss that the men at the Wall called ale. What he wouldn’t give for some of his liquor, but he had left it in the chamber that he and Jon shared, and he had no desire to return there.

The crow didn’t move, and Tormund momentarily mourned the days in which a glare from him was enough to send a crow scurrying with their tail between their legs.

“Is Jon alright?”

Tormund finally turned his head properly, and took in the sight of the portly friend of Jon’s.

“He’s fine.” Tormund grunted, “Probably making moon eyes at that pretty lad again.”

The crow squinted as he tried to understand who Tormund was talking about. “Pretty lad… pretty lad… oh, you mean Satin? Jon wouldn’t be flirting with Satin, or at least, not deliberately. Honestly neither of them might have realised they were doing it.”

That caught Tormund’s attention, “How the fuck would they not know if they were flirting?”

The crow shifted uncomfortably, “Well, Jon’s, Jon really. He wouldn’t notice flirting unless it had a sword aimed at him or his siblings. As for Satin, well, flirting was his job, he flirts all the time. I don’t think he knows how not to.”

While he understood, and to some extent, agreed with the comment on Jon’s ability to notice things other than weaponry and his myriad of younger siblings, he did not understand how flirting could be someone’s job. Nor how someone like that would end up as a crow.

“Satin, Satin was a whore. In Oldtown. Until he annoyed someone important and got sent here.” The crow continued to explain. “It’s, well it’s a defence mechanism, just as much as the knife on your belt is.”

Regret started to fill Tormund’s heart, he should have known Jon did not mean it. Should have known that his Pretty Crow had not meant to flirt and hurt him.

He regretted his harsh words, but not the anger that had fuelled them. Jon was his, just as much as he was Jon’s, and this relationship was not a fling as he had held with Alysanne Mormont, nor was it the wish for children he had shared with Karsi. There was something stronger there, a wish to tie their lives together, and it was something he would defend to the death.

Tormund downed the last of his watery ale and stood to go find Jon to apologise for his words. He clapped the crow hard on the shoulder and could not help the smirk that formed as the crow winced under his palm.

He was just in the courtyard, happily thinking about the results of making up after a fight, when the most horrible sound filled the air.

Jon’s wolf, Jon’s Ghost howled out a mournful cry, as though everything good had been taken from him, and Tormund knew.

His feet pounded on the ground as he ran to their chamber, but he already knew he would be too late.

He already knew Jon was gone. 

His pretty crow, his Jon, his love, was dead.

And it was all Tormund’s fault.

* * *

Tormund had never thought he would be thankful for the red witch. Never thought he would be pleased to see a dead man walk.

And yet somehow, he knew Jon’s body was not some puppet controlled by magic or evil, somehow he knew that it was his Jon in there.

“I’m so sorry.” He breathed into Jon’s curls. “So, so sorry.”

He could feel how Jon’s fingers were clenched into the furs at his back with a fierce, desperate strength.

“There is nothing to be sorry about.” Jon whispered back, “It is not your fault I died.”

Tormund disagreed with that, but he did not say so.

“You died, and the last words I spoke to you were of jealous anger. And, and, I’m sorry.”

“I said some horrid thing as well.” Jon said, stiltedly, as though he was struggling to remember, “I, I made you leave. I pushed you away.”

Tormund held him closer, until he could almost believe nothing had ever happened to Jon. Until he could trust his ears and eyes and Jon was safe and well and alive.

“I was jealous, seeing things where I shouldn’t have, and I took out my jealousy, my insecurity on you. And that wasn’t fair.” Tormund mumbled against the top of Jon’s hair, “And I will never forgive myself for what it led to.”

Jon pulled back slightly to make Tormund look into his (blessedly grey) eyes.

“It wasn’t your fault I died. And I will repeat that so many times until it takes. It was Ramsay Snow’s fault for being an evil shit. And my fault, for not paying attention. But it was never your fault.”

Tormund couldn’t find the words to respond, he merely pulled Jon back and pressed a fierce kiss to his brow.

He wasn’t naïve enough to think that they would never fight again, but he could hope that none of the future fights would have results as dire as this one.

He didn’t think he could cope with losing Jon again. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> If you liked this and want to chat about it, request any other scenes from other character's points of view, or just chat, then find me on tumblr @istaricelebelasse


End file.
